by Sarah Bailey
CHAPTER FORTY
TUESDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER 2015
SUDDEN PRESSURE ON THE SIDE OF HER TEMPLE, COLD AND HARD.
Dean is on the floor next to the upturned table, his face twisted in pain. He clutches at his leg. A whoosh of air leaves Oli’s body.
‘Don’t move.’ A low voice, like the rumble of a train.
She doesn’t. She barely breathes.
The pressure relents slightly. She slides her eyes sideways.
A gun. Aimed at her head.
Her body changes gear, and she starts to hyperventilate. Dean really is involved in this network of evil. Someone has come here and shot him.
It sinks in. Someone has shot Dean. They will probably shoot her. She cries out, but the sound is lost in the storm.
‘Not a good idea.’ The voice is calm. Familiar.
Dean whimpers, and Oli glances at him. Blood is smeared on the white tiles around him. He’s taken off one of his socks and wrapped it around his leg, breathing through clenched teeth as he grips it.
The gunman steps backward, gun still on Oli but his eyes on Dean.
‘What the fuck, mate?’ Dean huffs.
Oli lifts her gaze. It’s Nathan. He looks bizarre wearing a beanie. He looks bizarre holding a gun. ‘Hi, Oli,’ he says.
Fury flashes across Dean’s face. He moans and drops his head.
‘You were teaching back then,’ Oli whispers. ‘You were a professor at the uni.’
‘Yes,’ Nathan says.
‘They sold photos of little kids,’ Oli says. ‘The housemates. You knew.’
Dean’s eyes widen. He doesn’t know, Oli realises. He doesn’t know about any of this.
Nathan looks annoyed. ‘It was just a transaction. No one got hurt. That’s what most people don’t understand about all this—it exists on a scale, and for most individuals it’s very manageable. It’s completely natural, no harm done. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a lot better than individuals acting on their feelings.’
Oli shifts slightly, inching closer to the panic button. Now that the table is lying sideways on the floor, the tiny green light seems so much more obvious on the white wall.
Nathan senses her movement, trains the gun at her head again.
‘What about Louise Carter?’ Oli spits. ‘You’re saying no harm was done to her?’
‘That was different,’ admits Nathan. ‘One member of our group crossed the line.’
She still can’t quite see how it all fits together. ‘And the girls found out?’
He sighs. ‘Evelyn was the problem. Nicole raised the red flag—she knew Evelyn was a risk.’
Oli is trying to follow. ‘So you killed her?’
Nathan blinks. ‘That’s enough.’
‘Nicole helped you that night, helped you set up Alex.’
Nathan stretches his neck. The barrel of the gun shifts between Oli and Dean. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘You killed Evelyn, and you set Alex up. Then you helped Nicole escape.’
‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ he says primly.
Oli’s brain feels like mush. ‘But why would—?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ His voice rises a few notches. ‘We sorted it. And now we need to sort this.’
The front door flies open. A man walks in.
Bowman. Wearing his trench coat and dark gloves. He’s holding a gun, his jaw set.
Oli almost weeps with relief. Her muscles spasm.
Dean cries out in pain. She pictures the twins at the cemetery with Mary laying flowers on two graves. Hold on, Dean, she pleads. Hold on.
The front door closes with a thud, and Nathan smiles.
Bowman nods. ‘We don’t have much time.’
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BOWMAN LEVELS THE GUN AT OLI. HE LOOKS TIRED AND DISHEVELLED, but there’s a disconcerting hardness to his gaze. A grim determination. Oli pictures him arriving at the Paradise Street house. Sitting at the back of the ambulance after the fire up in Crystalbrook. Walking away from her after they met at the pub. Crying at Isabelle’s funeral.
They lock eyes. ‘I did tell you to drop it,’ he says reasonably. ‘You and your friend. He was very keen to alert the uni about the pornography ring that he thought was being run under their noses. He had a very vivid imagination—and, I suspect, a little too much to prove to his new colleague.’
‘Cooper,’ Oli murmurs.
‘I told your boss involving him in all this was a bad idea weeks ago. It’s a damn shame that a violent meth-head liked the look of his jacket.’
Boss? Is Bowman talking about Dawn or Joosten, or someone else? All of Oli’s senses are in overdrive—she can smell the slightly foul odour of stale water from the vase, while the white of the tiles burns her eyes, her heartbeat shuddering through her limbs. The storm has settled into steady, relentless rain. Her brain shuffles the facts like a deck of cards. Bowman knew how to kill Evelyn and make it look like Alex did it. He knew how to make someone disappear. He knows how to get away with killing Oli. With killing Dean.
‘Isabelle,’ Oli says slowly. ‘She told you her theory about the housemates generating child pornography. She linked it to the uni. You knew she wouldn’t rest until she brought the whole thing crashing down.’
Dean flinches but doesn’t look up. His face has turned a disturbing grey.
She edges slightly closer to the wall. Bowman adjusts his hold on the gun, and she freezes. Lily, Oli thinks suddenly, Lily is expecting me. She will know something is wrong, and she will … what? Call? Come over? A slow sinking feeling takes over. Lily will just figure that Oli has worked things out with Dean, not believing that she will actually leave. Oli pleads silently, just like she used to. Please, Lily, please. Help me.
‘I had a huge amount of respect for Isabelle,’ Bowman says bluntly. ‘She was smart and she deserved better.’ He glares at Dean, who glowers at him through his agony. ‘It was clear she was throwing herself into work to avoid problems in her marriage.’
‘How far does this go?’ Oli asks weakly.
‘Quite far,’ replies Nathan. He could be talking about the weather.
‘Send the message, Nathan,’ Bowman orders. ‘We’ve only got about thirty minutes till I’m supposed to arrive here.’
Nathan fetches Oli’s phone from the sofa and awkwardly types a message with his gloved hand. ‘What else do you need?’ he asks, throwing the phone to Bowman.
‘Her over here.’ Bowman points to the floor in front of him.
Nathan grabs Oli’s coat and pulls her roughly along the floor, closer to the wall. Pieces of broken porcelain pierce her hands. ‘Here?’ he asks Bowman.
‘Yep.’
‘Do I need to stand anywhere in particular?’
‘You were here earlier this week, right?’ Bowman replies.
Nathan nods. ‘Twice.’
‘Just avoid the blood, then. You’ve sent all the texts?’
‘Yep. All sorted.’
‘You should go. I’ll sort this out. Leave the gun and head home, have a shower. Watch a movie.’
‘Right.’ Nathan looks at Oli then briefly at Dean. ‘Right then.’
Oli rocks up onto her knees. Dean lifts his head but it falls back against the wall with a thud.
Nathan stares at him.
‘Go.’ Bowman flicks his head at the door. ‘Get out of here.’
After placing the gun on the floor with his gloved hand, Nathan nods politely at Oli and leaves.
‘You’re a piece of shit,’ Dean says weakly.
‘Shut up,’ growls Bowman. ‘Now listen. You two have a terrible relationship.’ He turns to Oli. ‘I know you thought Dean was involved in Isabelle’s death and, conveniently, my boy Bouris is going to corroborate this. He’s very obedient—especially after my little reminder yesterday.’
Through his pain, Dean looks at Bowman with pure hatred.
‘I also had a good chat with your boss this morning. I filled her in on your fragile mental
state and your theories about your fiancé. We’re both quite worried about you.’
‘You spoke to Dawn?’ Oli whispers, tilting herself backwards. The button is now only a few centimetres from her head. She hopes she is blocking it from Bowman’s view.
He ignores her but says, ‘She knows you’ve been spinning further and further into a manic episode, wrongly identifying a young girl as a missing toddler. Clearly you are grieving for your murdered colleague. You even hired a car because you were so scared of your fiancé following you. Classic paranoia.’
‘Evie is Louise Carter, isn’t she? Isn’t she?!’ Oli cries out, throwing her head against the wall. The button digs into her scalp. She feels it depress. A soft click. Please, please.
‘Louise Carter is dead.’ Bowman sneers. ‘Everyone except you thinks so, and you’re crazy.’
‘How are you going to hide the truth from her family?’
He shrugs, trains the gun on Dean, and looks back and forth at the distance between them. ‘Easy enough to misplace test results. Honestly, forensics has made everyone so lazy.’
Oli feels Dean’s eyes on her. She lifts her chin to Bowman. Even if help comes, it’ll probably be too late. She glares at Bowman, and a sharp rage courses through her body, a boldness born from hopelessness. ‘Isabelle trusted you, and you fucking murdered her. You’re paedophile scum.’
He steps forward and cuffs her on the side of the head with the gun. She sees stars. Icy pain burns her skull. ‘Who do you think you are?’
She is too shocked to cry.
‘I warned her. I fucking warned her.’ He spits. ‘She knew how deep in she was.’
Oli looks over at Dean, whose eyes are closing. ‘Dean!’ she whispers.
‘Shut up or you’ll cop another one.’ Bowman stalks into the kitchen.
Choking on her sobs, Oli turns to press the panic button several times with her nose. Chest heaving, she faces forward again and wills Dean to stay awake. To stay alive.
Bowman returns holding a knife. Oli’s stomach tightens. It must be for her.
He places her phone on the floor near her foot. ‘There’s a real art to this, you know, like doing a puzzle backwards. You almost dialled triple zero.’ He shows her the screen with the number. ‘Unfortunately, you didn’t quite manage to place the call.’
Dean stirs as if he’s having a bad dream.
Oli senses an energy, tension in the air before an explosion. Her breath catches. Stays deep in her lungs.
Everything happens at once. All the doors swing open as if possessed. Icy air floods the house. Cops stream in, weapons raised.
Oli slides to the floor. Stares through the navy-clad ankles at Dean. She can’t tell if he’s still breathing.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
BOWMAN STRAIGHTENS, SNIFFS CASUALLY AND GESTURES AT OLI. ‘Ah, thank goodness. I was just about to ring this in. A nasty domestic, I’m afraid. This woman is very confused, but I’ve removed her weapon.’
The cops don’t even look at Oli.
‘I’m not sure if he’s going to make it, but I’d say it’s self-defence.’ Bowman jerks a thumb at Dean.
One of them steps forward. ‘I think you’d better come to the station with us, Chief.’ His gun is steady, aimed at Bowman’s chest.
He scowls. ‘I think you’ll find she called me earlier, making all kinds of outrageous claims.’
A pair of paramedics enter the house. Heads down, they make a beeline for Dean.
Handcuffs are fixed around Bowman’s wrists. ‘This is ridiculous!’ he splutters. ‘She shot him. And he’s implicated in the death of his ex-wife, DS Isabelle Yardley. One of our own.’
Someone grabs Oli’s wrist, checks her pulse. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Bowman is led away, his protests fading into the night.
It’s stopped raining.
‘Where do you feel pain?’ The paramedic peers at her, pulls her eyes open and shines a torch in them.
Her mind struggles with the question. ‘Please help my fiancé, he’s injured.’
‘He’s being looked after, don’t worry.’
‘Is he going to be alright? He was shot.’
‘Let’s just worry about you for now,’ the paramedic says kindly, examining her temple.
Rusty appears. ‘Oli.’ He smiles tentatively at her, fear lurking in his eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
She’s trying to think. ‘Why are you here?’
‘TJ called me.’
‘TJ? I don’t understand.’
‘He said you talked earlier—that you told him a whole lot of stuff, then hung up. Then you didn’t return his calls, and he was worried. He got Dean’s address from HR and turned up just as Bowman arrived. TJ saw him go inside, thought it was weird. He already had suspicions about Bowman feeding information to Dawn but assumed him being here was something to do with Cooper and didn’t want to interrupt, so he got back in his car and waited. He called me, wanted to see if I knew anything. But by then the lady next door had already called the cops.’
‘Toni?’
‘Yeah. She didn’t recognise the Toyota in the driveway, and she knew Dean was supposed to be away, so she couldn’t work out why his car was there. She couldn’t get on to him, then she saw TJ waiting in his car and was worried that someone was planning to rob the house. Apparently there’ve been some break-ins around here lately?’
Oli remembers Toni talking about the break-ins the evening she came over. ‘Apparently.’
‘Anyway, the cops arrived just as Nathan was leaving. He said he was on his way to call for help. Babbled some excuse about Dean losing the plot and wanting to kill you like he killed his first wife. It all sounded off, then TJ told us Bowman was inside.’ Rusty pauses. ‘And then a call came through that the panic alarm had been triggered in the house.’
‘Jesus.’
Rusty nods. ‘I voiced some doubts about Bowman. We spoke earlier today, and he told me you were …’
‘That I was what?’
‘Losing it. Said you’d been calling him day and night about a bunch of old cases. And when I asked him about the girl, he fobbed me off, said he had proof she wasn’t Louise Carter. He said I should avoid talking to you for a while.’ Rusty balls his fists. ‘It just didn’t sit right with me, not with what happened to Cooper. I called in backup.’ He looks around the room. ‘Thank Christ.’
‘You know he’s been doing this for years, Rusty. Decades. He and Nathan. And who knows who else.’
Rusty doesn’t reply, just clenches his jaw and squeezes her hand.
The paramedic slides a pillow under Oli’s head. ‘You’ll need to go to the hospital. That’s a nasty knock.’
Oli ignores her. ‘Rusty, the girl is Louise Carter. I know she is. You have to tell her parents, you have to call them. And we have to find the twins. Dean said they’re with his mother—we need to call her.’ She knows she’s babbling, but the thoughts won’t stop. Her head feels like it’s about to explode.
‘Oli, don’t worry, it’s all under control. You just need to relax, okay?’
‘Where is Dean? How is he?’
Rusty looks over his shoulder. His Adam’s apple jerks. ‘He’s going to be fine, Oli.’
She nods, wondering if Rusty’s lying. If Dean is going to die. She thinks about Cooper in the hospital bed and closes her eyes. ‘Is TJ still here?’
‘Yeah, out front. Your neighbour has taken quite a shine to him.’
Despite everything, Oli pictures Toni in her expensive designer coat flirting with TJ.
‘God,’ Oli says as she starts shaking uncontrollably.
‘I can’t believe it about Bowman,’ Rusty says quietly. ‘I liked him, Ol. I really did. How could he do this? How did he hide in plain sight like this, and no one figured it out?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says, her teeth chattering.
‘Oli!’ Lily is at the front door, her wet hair hanging in strands, eyes bloodshot.
‘I called her.
’ Rusty smiles tentatively. ‘I hope that’s okay.’
Oli’s face collapses. Lily edges around the room, behind the circle of cops, and makes her way over. She exchanges a look with the paramedic, who nods reluctantly.
Lily drops dramatically to her knees. ‘Oh, Oli.’
Oli lets her sister hold her, debris from the vase prickling the backs of her thighs. Over Lily’s shoulder she sees Dean lifted onto a stretcher. His clothes have been cut off and pieces of material hang from his body.
‘It’s okay, Ol.’ Lily smooths her hair, kisses her forehead. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
Oli buries her face in Lily’s chest. Breathes in her familiar scent.
Something that has been bothering Oli finally clicks. I met her, the girl.
Through the archway, Isabelle watches from the mantelpiece, gazing down at the blood and broken glass.
Hiding in plain sight.
Oli lifts her head. ‘I think I know where Nicole Horrowitz is.’
HOUSEMATE HOMICIDE ARREST
Wednesday, 16 September 2015
By Cooper Ng and Oli Groves
Almost ten years after the death of Melbourne University student Evelyn Stanley, detectives swarmed the East Melbourne property of Professor Julian McCrae and his wife Diana to arrest 31-year-old Nicole Horrowitz, who was discovered in a studio at the rear of the house. Ms Horrowitz has been charged with several offences including child abduction, abuse of a minor, and the production, publication and circulation of child pornography, and will appear in court later today. Melbourne Today understands the McCraes have also been taken into custody and are expected to be charged with similar offences shortly.
Ms Horrowitz’s arrest followed an evening of stunning revelations that senior police officials and high-profile individuals in the higher education sector, including Nathan Farrow, the Dean of Melbourne University, are embroiled in a decades-old child pornography ring, which is believed to be linked to the October 2005 murder of Evelyn Stanley in her St Kilda home and the concurrent disappearance of then-housemate Ms Horrowitz. In 2006 a third housemate, Alexandra Riboni, was convicted of murdering Ms Stanley and served three years in gaol before she was released under a ruling of self-defence. Ms Riboni’s body was discovered in Crystalbrook last week after a suspected suicide.